Rig Ion
by SavL7
Summary: Every rogue has their snapping point.  The point where the world literally cracks and for some reason a sense of sanity appears.  My perception of the Riddler's step to sanity...or insanity depending on which side of the line you sit on.


Rig Ion

a/n: This is the origin story of the riddler in a quick one shot, at least this is how I perceive his origin. It takes place after the car accident and the lamp post. Basically, it's when he becomes crippled for life. It's also how he starts his love for tootsie pops again. Again, this MY origin for him based partially off the comics and the BTAS. Hope you like. Oh and if you didn't get the title, it's an anagram.

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><p>He could feel one thing at this moment: pain. Complete and utter pain. Claws were digging and dragging into his skin, a flame was slowly roasting him, and lit cigarettes were being pressed into him. He couldn't handle it. His body started shaking as if the movement could possible get rid of this horrendous feeling. He tried clawing at his skin, but he didn't feel any flame or claws against him. He hands only felt skin, but the pain…it was there!<p>

He finally heard screaming. Was he in a torture house? Had he been kidnapped? He couldn't even begin to comprehend why anyone would want to kidnap him, but it was the only reasonable explanation at this point. He was probably drugged with something made to make him feel this way. Oh god, it hurt so much.

"We have already given him two doses of morphine," a voice that seemed so far away spoke.

He tried to focus through the fog of pain on what those words meant. Why would a torture house give him morphine? No, he couldn't have gotten morphine. The knives were slitting through his muscles. The voice lied.

He heard screaming again. It wasn't stopping. He would have felt bad for the other poor soul endearing this, but he was too focus on his own pain. The noise sounded familiar though. It wasn't something he heard very often, but he had heard it.

Realization hit and he felt the wind knocked out of him. It was him. He was screaming. He was alone.

"The pain might put him into a coma," another voice stated miles away.

Coma? No, he couldn't…but…the knives would stop. The claws would be gone. He would be free.

No, Nigma.

That was his name wasn't it? Edward Nigma.

Edward, you need to focus. You are genius and amazing at puzzles. You need to figure out what's going on and then we can stop the pain, he thought to himself forcefully pulling his mind away from the horrible sensation.

First, where are you?

He had heard two voices. They mentioned morphine and coma. They sounded professional. His mind jumped to doctor, but he needed to make sure. Do you have any other clues? He has five senses, even though at this point it felt like one. He needed to use another sense. He tried to open his eyes, but was blinded with light. It was so confusing his mind jumped back to the pain. He closed them again. He felt a scream painfully leave his throat. Focus. Senses. He had a nose. Yes, he had a nose. He drew in a deep breath to smell sterilizing and sick. Hospital. He was in a hospital. If he is in a hospital why in the world are these people not helping him? They are all idiots! He gasped as he felt another wind of pain as his mind jump back to it.

Don't focus on their stupidity. He needed to determine how he got to the hospital. What did he remember before the pain? He did have a life before it. He remembered wind. He remembered his steady heartbeat. Running. He was running. He loved running. He needed to focus on how it felt with your tennis shoes against the pavement.

"He's stop screaming," someone said in surprise.

There was a deep sigh, "He's probably gone into the coma. We shouldn't have allowed the surgery."

Surgery. He had surgery. What for? It had to do with running. They wanted to take away his leg! No, they can't take it away. He needs it. He signed an agreement that they couldn't amputate. They couldn't have taken away his leg, but that had to be where the pain was. They must have done it without his permission. He opened up his eyes, not caring about the light. He had to see his leg. He had to see what had happen to it.

He felt dizzy, but kept blinking until a white room and two figures came into view. He sat up immediately not noticing the IV cords in his arm or the hospital gown he wore. He had one thing in mind, his leg. He pulled the blanket off of his and saw…his leg. It was there, but bandaged.

He stared at it with a confused expression. It didn't make sense. He felt pain, but his leg was still there. He studied the bandage more carefully taking note to the dip like someone had scoped part of his leg out. Was that causing it?

"H-h-how?" a shocked young female voice next to him spoke.

"I'm not sure," a man, who sounded more in control, answered. He must be the doctor.

Edward closed his eyes. He let out a deep sigh almost trying to force all the pain away. It didn't work, but his mind flashed over what had happened.

The car, the metal, his leg, the doctors.

"Mr. Nigma," the doctor started. Edward merely ignored him. He was too wrapped up with the repeating images in his mind. The car…why had the car done that. Why? He brought his hand up to his face and rubbed against his haggard features. Why? Would he forever be with this pain? The mere mentioned of it caused him to flinch as his mind automatically shifted to it. He finally realized the pain wasn't all over his body. It was centered on his leg.

"Mr. Nigma," the doctor stated his name again.

With a deep breath he pulled his hand away and turned to the Doctor. Doctor Leam. Yes, the doctor with the balding hair and wrinkled face even though he's only in his forties. He was the doctor trying to steal his leg. Edward couldn't control the natural glare he gave the old man.

"Mr. Nigma, we did the surgery as you required, and we successfully removed the dead tissue and muscle, but as you can tell, your life will not be easy. The pain will probably always be there. We're sorry," the doctor responded with a sincere upset look.

Was the man purposefully being snide with him? He was rubbing his face in the dirt! How could this Doctor go on and brag about how he was right? He wasn't right! Edward was right.

"It is unlikely that you will ever walk again, Mr. Nigma. Even though immense physical therapy, the pain is expected to worsen. It's unlikely you will be able to think through it," the Doctor continued his fact and Edward cringed.

Never be able walk again….no. no. No. NO. This Doctor was a fool. He was thinking through the pain…oh god it hurt, it hurt when he thought about it, but he could focus elsewhere. He could focus on the stupid doctor in front of him.

"ge," he tried saying, but his mouth was dry and it felt exhuasting. He closed his mouth and swallowed. He can speak. He would speak.

"Ge-get out. Get Out!," he said in a stern voice.

The doctor and nurse just looked confused and surprised.

"I said get out!" he shouted, pointing at the door.

"As you say," the doctor nodded then turned to the door. The nurse followed closely behind. "We are sorry, Mr. Nigma," he spoke before shutting the door to his small room.

Sorry! Ha! Did stupid creature even know the meaning of sorry? He doubted it, but Edward could be quite a teacher.

* * *

><p>His hand clenched into the thin sheet of the hospital bed. He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting in the bed with his thoughts, possibly an hour, possibly ten. He was trying to will himself away from the pain. He counted the missing spots of paint on the wall. He counted his heartbeat. He couldn't the amount of times someone on the television said something stupid. He couldn't the amount of gossip he heard from the hallway. He counted each sound his bed made when he shifted in it.<p>

He couldn't explain why, but the simple repetitive nature of counting distracted him from the immense amount of pain he was feeling. When he was able to think of other things besides counting and pain he found himself stewing over how horrible his life had become. He used to live in a giant pent house above Gotham. He had girls off either arm as he manipulated them into a threesome. He drank champagne and played piano on a daily basis. He read. He read literature dating back to the 1700s to current political philosophy. He kept up to date with the news, which was never that difficult, and then he would go back to work to continue to make his millions a year. He invested and traded stocks as easily as a baby picks up their bottle. He dabbled in insider trading for a bit, but found it actually to be a waste of time. Everything he learned from insider trading was something he already knew. It added nothing to his profits. He wasn't like the other fools in Lehman who relied on insider trading to get by. Edward knew the markets. He knew the good investments, and he profited. He was living the life most never saw when he was only twenty two. To think those idiots would fire him. To think he would lose all of his life style to their stupid mistakes.

He frowned. It was all their fault. All the problems in his life could be connected to one thing: unintelligence. It was so unfair how people could make a mistake and see no punishment from it. Why did society coddle the morons? What happen to survival of the fittest? The drunk driver would probably only get off with a citation when he should be put in prison for the rest of his life. 'It was a mistake. I'm sorry,' he would probably say and the jury would eat up because they make stupid mistakes too. Everyone made stupid mistakes and hurt him. Why were the intelligent punished? It made no logical sense. How could the stupid even survive?

He was reminded of the many phone calls he got from working at Geek Squad. 'My computer is not turning on.' 'Is it plugged in?' 'Oh! Silly me.' He felt like banging his head against the wall on a daily basis. People were stupid.

"Hello Mr. Nigma, I was wondering if you needed anything," a girl's voice spoke from the doorway.

He turned to face the noise with a frustrated look that matched his thoughts. In one glance he could tell the woman had insecurity issues. She came into this field to help people, but saw too many die. She was beginning to think that it was her fault. She was blaming herself for things that probably had little to do with her. Then again, with how this hospital ran maybe it was all her and the other staffs fault for the deaths. Edward would not be surprised.

"No," he snapped then faced the small hanging television again. He didn't need to see the girl to know she visibly flinched at his remark.

"Are you sure? Everyone is quite surprised you're even able to move, not to mention talk. Do you need anymore pain relievers or water?" she attempted again.

Yes, he had been hearing the gossip around the hospital. Supposedly, it was a miracle, but how could this ever be seen a miracle when he was being punished by stupidity. No, it was a nightmare. It was a nightmare he was trapped in. "Dear, I'm not sure you have the ability to listen, but I do have the ability to speak. If I had wanted something, wouldn't I have asked?" he said causally but the edge in his tone could not go unnoticed. He was furious and even though this woman was probably his age or older, he would not talk to her in a respectful manner. She didn't deserve it. No one on this planet deserved his respect.

He turned to look at her when he still hadn't heard movement. Her face wore a hurt confused expression. She seemed too nice for this field. Nativity was the nicer phrase for stupid. Her eyes fell to the ground when he locked his with hers.

"I-I brought you the newspaper in case you were getting bored," she said sheepishly, though staying stiff in her place.

Actually, the newspaper might be helpful. It would distract him from all this ridiculous situation. Never walk again. Ha. He would figure out a way. He would force through the pain if he had too. As always the mere thought of pain caused it to rear its mighty head. He winced. Crossword. Yes, a crossword.

He waved his hand at her to hand it over. She scurried like a mouse across the tile floor and handed over the newspaper. He grabbed it and placed it on top of his lap. He looked at the date. He had been unconscious for almost a week. Great…

The girl must have gotten the hint because she was gone before he looked at the cover title.

MYSTERIOUS 'BAT-MAN' BRINGS FALCONE TO JUSTICE

He let out a large frustrated sigh. He's out of the world for a week and the city goes batty. Was there seriously not one intelligent person in this city beside him? He read the article in a matter of minutes. Some person is dressing up as a bat and taking down crime lords. If this guy really wanted to save Gotham he would set up an IQ entrance exam. Edward didn't care though. If someone wanted to put on a mask and flaunt around the night, it didn't affect him. It was just another idiotic person with nothing better to do with their time. There was no reason to waste his time on stupidity. He flipped through the paper reading about tornados in the south, the coming up presidential election, the mayors new plans, nothing to important. It wasn't until close to the last page did he find the crossword. He reached over to the small night table near his bed and grabbed the pen. He then looked at the puzzle. He read over each clue. His mind danced to all possible answers before quickly filling out each box. It only took him five minutes, but he felt at peace in that five minutes. It reminded him of running. Soothing and focusing. If only he could go on a run….

He groaned in irritation, falling back into his pillow. He was so mad. It was unfair. His bosses were still leaving the high life even though they ruined the economy. The bastard driver was probably with his family. And Edward…Edward was here with no money and pain. He hated them all.

He was probably smarter then every one of them. No, not probably. He was smarter then every one. He had to fix this. He had to, but he had to walk first.

* * *

><p>"Damn it!" he shouted against the cold tile now pressed to his face. Every time he put weight onto his left leg it screamed out in worse pain. He tried to mentally distract himself from it, but it hurt so much. No, the was a challenge. If he were like every other average human being in this city, he wouldn't be able to do this, but he was Edward Nigma. He was young and smart. He used to be successful. He was going places in his life because he would be the only one in control of it. No one else would ever take control of his life again.<p>

He frowned at the tile, but pushed his hands against it. He moved his left knee so he could get up on his right leg first. He could do this. He would do this. He would go back Andrew Nickleson and Mattie Carpender. He would punish those two men since society had failed to. He would show them who the real genius was. He would prove to them and the world that he would no longer allow other's mistake to ruin his life. He put pressure onto his right leg as his hand reached for the wall for balance. He pushed himself up so he was balancing on his one leg. He hated hospitals. They were full of doctors with medical degrees printed on toilet paper. He had to leave. He would leave. He had been in this dreadful building for too long. He had sat on that bed for too long. He was leaving.

His IV cords were on the bed as well as all the other connecting devices to him. He had gotten into a fight with the nurse over it a couple days ago. She had walked into him on the ground and amazingly enough shouted at him for it. He 'kindly' explained she could do nothing to stop him, so for the past four days he did this. He stood, he fell, he stood, he fell, he plotted, he stood, he plotted, he fell. Today was the day though. He would not be caged in the building that smelled of death. He slowly put his left foot on the ground. The normal pain was still there, but he had gotten to the point of numbing it through pure will power. Anger had a talent of that. He took a deep breath. He pressed his foot onto the ground.

The daggers felt like they twisted into his muscle then ripped out a chuck of him. He let out a yelp of pain and fell to the ground again. He growled. He probably had a few bruises on his hands and face by now, but nothing really could compare to the other pain.

He heard laughter. He looked up to see a little boy in a hospital gown, sucking on a lollipop. His door was open, something his nurse did in order to hear and check in if anything went horribly wrong. Though he didn't appreciate the audience. His frown deepened as he looked up at the kid who just wore a huge grin.

Edward's fingers clawed against the tile. "Little boy, you shouldn't taunt a wounded rattle snack," he snapped.

The boy must not be very good at reading emotions because he only smiled larger. "You're funny, like humpty dumpy," the kid said through his lollipop.

Stupid kid doesn't even understand a warning. Edward didn't particularly like children either. "Boy, if you laugh one more time I'll throw that candy in the trash, and then you can ask mommy 'what bad diseases can you find in a hospital garbage?'" he growled out, knowing with the kid's low intelligence he would pick it up from the trash can.

The boy pulled out his candy and waved it at him like a taunt. "Ya can't get me," he said then laughed.

Oh that was it. He wasn't positive what the boy was sick from, but he had no problem adding a few more deadly viruses to that.

He pushed his hands up to bring up his left knee. He then moved to get his right foot on the ground. He grabbed the wall to force himself upwards and without even a second thought he put his left foot on the ground. Screw the pain, this boy deserved to be taught a lesson.

The boy's eyes widened in shock. The kid was realizing how stupid he was, about time. Edward couldn't help the smirk from crawling on his face. He moved his right leg then sort of hopped in a limp. It was slow moving, but the boy appeared frozen, but then the kid shook out of it. He was off, running to the right. He knew he couldn't run. He could barely walk, but that didn't mean he couldn't find the boy. The children's ward must be on his floor, and the attitude the kid was giving him signified that he wasn't supposed to leave. He probably left under the guise of going to the restroom. A nurse probably found him and gave him a lollipop to come back with him. The kid probably took the lollipop and ran off again. But now that he had a threat coming after him the kid was either going to go to the nurse or the children ward in search of adult protection. Predictable. Every person was predictable, especially a child.

He looked at the sign as he walked outside of his room. The hallway was full of some nurses and equipment. He didn't pay mind to it. He just read the sign pointing him in the direction of the children's ward. He started limping there. Nurses were too busy with their work to question him. They didn't care. Why would they? He had nothing to do with their lives. People were self-interested beings. He made a turn and saw the glass doors of the ward and the colorful wallpaper inside. He smirked. Stupid. Stupid. Kid. He walked over and the glass doors slide open. When he walked in all of the children playing on the ground with toys or in their hospital beds looked over at him. His eyes though went to the little boy pulling on an older nurse's outfit. "That's him Miss. Molly. The evil man," the boy shouted pointing at him.

The older lady turned to look at him with a confused look. "May I help you?" she asked.

"You could have helped me by actually doing your job and watching these children, but instead you were lazy and punished me with your mistakes. Or are you just not smart enough to handle a few little brats?" he asked, hearing some of the children gasp.

The older lady made a face that matched a disfigured frog. "Excuse me sir, there are children around," she growled out.

"Oh thank you for insulting me by assuming I don't have visual sensory. Now, can I please have the boy he owes me that candy," he stated holding out his hand.

"Sir, I will ask you to leave, or I will call security," she stated gripping onto the boy.

"Security? Does it look like I care about security? I am tired of old fools like you and naïve children like him ruining my life through your stupid conclusions. I am finished with being taken advantage by you lesser things. I will bring back Darwinism. Smart will prevail and moronic people like you will die. But it looks like the viruses have beaten me here. How long do you have left, kid? A month?" he couldn't help but chuckle. "Doesn't matter, you owe me that candy and I'm going to throw it away and then I'm going to toss that trash can out the window," he said with a large grin.

Was Edward losing it? Maybe slightly. The kid had pushed him over the edge. He could no longer filter his thoughts. He could no longer push aside his irritations. He wouldn't. He watched the lady grab her radio. "Security to Child Ward," she stated into it.

"You obviously don't listen," he said throwing an arm in the air then limping towards the nurse. The nurse backed away, but when he was close enough Edward just jumped for the kid. It hurt horribly but he didn't even notice. He wanted the kid, and he got the kids arm.

The nurse grabbed the boys waist and started pulling as Edward pulled from the ground. "Give me the candy, you little brat. Do you not speak English? We live in the United States, it might not be the official language but it should be required. Bien, voy a hablar español. Dame el dulce! Non, l'espagnol? Français. Donnez-moi des bonbons!" he shouted as he pulled on the boys arm. He was so focus on the boy that he didn't even notice when two men came in and picked him up.

"Let go of me you, brutes!" he shouted, annoyed as he swung his scrawny arms out to grab the boy again.

"Sir, calm down," one of the guards told him.

"Calm down! When the world is being run by a bunch of morons! You expect me to be calm!" he shouted.

But before he could go on a longer rant, a needle was jabbed into his neck and everything with white. If only Edward could say this would be the last time he was drugged unconscious for disorderly conduct.

* * *

><p>He groaned as consciousness slowly returned. He had a headache, but of course it was nothing compared to the pain in his leg. His hand still flew to his temples trying to sooth the annoyance away. He frowned when he remembered why he had the headache. Stupid little boy and his stupid candy. If you don't punish a child they only repeat their actions.<p>

"You're awake," the soft nurse voice said to him. He opened his eyes to see her small figure near his bed, adjusting one of the IVs.

"Congratulation for deducing such a simple conclusion," he muttered as he continued to rub his temples. He had definitely been in this hospital for a longer time period then he ever wanted to be. He needed to have his meeting with Nickleson and Carpenter. It was only fair to say hello to old bosses.

The small nurse cringed again at the insult, but tried not to let it affect her. "You upset all the children in the ward. A lot of them have been crying, and the boy Timothy has been hiding under his bed," she said softly.

"Good," was his only response. Did she expect him to feel guilty? He didn't care if the children got a lesson in life. They might actually grow up not to be worthless stupid sheep.

"If you wanted candy you could have asked," she mumbled then moved something on the table next to him.

He opened his eyes and glanced at the movement. There sat a bowl of lollipops. He rolled his eyes. He didn't actually want the candy. He just wanted to teach the stupid brat some manners. Still he found his hand going to the bowl. He pulled out a green lollipop randomly. He studied the wrapper. It was actually a tootsie pop. He used to love these when he was a kid.

"The only unsolvable riddle in the world, how many licks to the center of a tootsie pop?" he repeated his words from his youth. He unwrapped the candy and stuck it into his mouth. They always did taste delicious, and he started to count his licks. The counting did the same thing it had done before, it numbed him from his pain, but with the mixture of the taste it almost felt like pain was never there to begin with. He might start eating more of these. He smirked. A grown man eating lollipops, it was quite a silly image, but if it helped the pain like this he didn't quite care.

"The Doctors are very impressed with your progress, Mr. Nigma. They had thought you would be bed ridden for months, but under two weeks you have woken up, spoken, and walked. It's a miracle," she said with a small smile.

He rolled his eyes again. "It's not a miracle. It's willingness not listen to the words of doctors. I feel most re-teach themselves online through ," he stated through the candy in his mouth.

Was it green apple? He really liked this flavor.

The girl only nodded, but obviously didn't agree with him.

"I'm leaving, today," he stated.

The girl stopped what she was doing and looked at him with an unbelieving expression. "You can't leave. You still have a long time of recovery," she said in a stern voice. The same one he heard when she told him not to try walking.

"I'm leaving. I can do what I'm doing here at home instead of smelling death, which only depresses me further," he said, "Now you can either get me a cane or I will limp out of here."

"You will be without morphine."

"I've been cutting myself off that for the past four days. I will not repeat myself," he stated finally.

"Doctor Leam is not going to approve this."

"That moronic doctor is one of the reasons I'm here," he argued, crossing his arms over his chest like a little kid.

The nurse finally sighed and left. He swore people lost the ability to listen at the age one month. He continued to suck on his lollipop as he waited. If she dare brought back the doctor he would be furious.

After a hundred and fifty five licks she finally reappeared through the door with a basic black cane. It would do for now. She handed it to him. "You shouldn't leave."

"Good day," he said to hint that she should leave. She did with a sigh and worry look. He had already pulled out the IVs, and then used the cane to force himself up. When his left foot touched the ground, he focused on the flavor in his mouth. Good. He was good. He walked over to his clothes that were folded at the base of his bed, and went through the difficulty of putting them on, but soon he was walking out of the horrible room. He would not be coming here again, ever. No, he had plans. Important plans..or should he say riddles.

As he walked down the hallway to the elevator, you could see lollipop sticks sticking out of his pockets.


End file.
